The Relic
Hans clutched his Mauser to his body as he led his newly-appointed hunting party into the forest. After just a few days, feeding a couple hundred men during the winter left commander Peiper with no choice but to send hunting parties eastward, to the place Lapine grandma said never to go.
This time Hans was prepared. His party of four included Tex, who was as good a shot as Hans had ever seen, and two men from the Leibstandarte. He was confident that they would all be enough to handle whatever they might encounter, especially being heavily armed as they were.
“So what’re we looking for, Herr Hepner?” Tex said quietly.
“Game would be ideal, but I’ll settle for fowl. Also be watchful for berries or nuts. We need another source.”
The two Leibstandarte men stayed well behind, content to speak among themselves. Their names were Hans Siptrott and Werner Kindler. In many ways Siptrott looked like an SS man from the movie reels, with blond hair, blue eyes and a square jaw. Kindler looked even younger than Hans himself, and had big eyes and a boney face.
“These tracks look pretty fresh,” Tex got Hans’ attention.
“Just let me hunt it myself. If we all follow it’s going to notice and get away.”
Hans turned back to the SS men and told them to follow behind Tex on the opposite side so that they formed a triangle. Siptrott said nothing. He looked none too pleased to be taking orders from a Gefreiter in the Wehrmacht. The two of them marched off and Hans followed Tex from the other side as the American tracked his game.
After a few moments Tex stopped in his tracks. Hans felt tempted to call out, but picked up his binoculars and saw the peril ahead: Burly, green-skinned monsters mounted atop what looked like giant feral wolves with six legs. The feral animal looked about three meters long.
“Mein Gott… TEX! TEX fall back right now!”
There wasn’t even a need to tell the American. He was already sprinting back to Hans.
“It’s them!” Hans whispered. “It’s them, it’s the monsters, they’re already here!”
“What do we do?”
“We must get back to Peip—”
An abrupt explosion rumbled through the air and made the snow jump. Hans picked up his binoculars and saw one of the three steeds blown to red chunks in the snow. This caused the other beasts to take off to direction of where the SS men were stationed.
Shots rang out from the underbrush in two different places. Siptrott must have seen the monsters in advance and prepared accordingly. The second greenskin fell off his beast. Hans watched the third wolf turn back to leave with the green warriors on foot.
“Halt, Wolfie!”
The voice sounded like Siptrott’s. Hans and Tex came running over to the SS men, who had a wolven warrior at gunpoint.
“Those weapons! Tell me where you got those things!” Siptrott shouted at the wolf, who had sticks of dynamite strapped to his waist. One of the sticks had an eagle and Swastika.
“Siptrott! Put the gun down. Let me speak with this one,” Hans interjected.
The SS man grunted at Hans but did as he said. Then Hans turned to the wolf and showed him both of his hands.
“Those explosives. They came from our country, you know,” he talked to the wolf in a voice much calmer than Siptrott’s.
“These? You mean boomsticks,” the wolf corrected Hans.
“Yes. Boomsticks. These boomsticks. Did you get them from another human?”
“We came here to destroy Greenskins. That’s all I have to say.”
Hans also noticed the ‘SS’ painted on the black wolf’s chestfur. It was hard to miss.
“Hey, look,” Hans signaled Kindler over and pointed to his collar, which bore the identical insignia.
The wolf huffed out and gestured at Siptrott and Kindler. “Those two. They must be good warriors. Because they run in Master Sepp’s pack.”
“’MASTER’ Sepp?” Siptrott blurted. He and Kindler stared at each other for a moment. One other explosive-strapped wolf came up to the conversation and stood before the humans.
“Yes. Master Sepp. You are the ‘good’ humans? We have a human with that collar, too. His name is Hair Petch-Key. Do you know of Hair Petch-Key?”
“We… Had a comrade named Werner Poetschke. Some time ago.” Siptrott nodded.
“Hmm. Our Petch-Key has flaxen hair, flame-wielder, and a bad temper.”
“…That’s probably him…” Siptrott and Kindler both responded instantly.
“Yes. If you are from the ‘good’ humans, then Master Sepp needs your help,” the wolf said.
“No time to lose. Keep you heads down and follow me. Axthrowers about.”
Hans nodded to the other SS men, although Siptrott and Kindler probably wouldn’t have listened to Hans even if he’d commanded them otherwise.
Hans followed behind Siptrott, Kindler and the two wolves, with Tex still walking by his side. This whole thing seemed suspicious. It could have been a setup. Morbid curiosity kept Hans and the others following, even as the noise of clanging metal, screams and explosives grew louder. He saw wolves swarming in and around a dugout. Some were loading thick arrows into cartridge-powered crossbows. The wolves noticed Hans’ party of humans and stared wide-eyed at them, stopping in their tracks.
The wolf took them to a man in officer’s uniform, but with animal skins draped over his shoulders. The man had his back turned to them, and couldn’t have been more than 170 cm tall; at least a head shorter than the wolves around him.
“Master…” The explosive-strapped wolf muttered with his ears lowered.
“Rokura?”
The ‘master’ turned around.
“What happened… What. I recognize those faces! Siptrott? Werner Kindler!”
The ‘master’ shook young Werner Kindler by the shoulders and beamed as if he were re-uniting with his son.
“Rokura how in the hell did you miraculously bring me these men! Tell me. Tell me you got those wolftaurs!”
“They’re gone, Master, but one escaped.”
The ‘Master’s’ face brightened at their sight. Hans noticed oak leaves on the ‘Master’s’ collar. This man had the residue of this world all over him, as if he’d been here for as long as Hans had.
“And who are these two?”
“Sir, um, Herr-Master-Sepp,” Hans spoke up.
“We are a scouting party for a Kompanie-sized unit led by Standartenfuehrer Jochen Peiper.”
Another explosion rocked the ground not far away. ‘Master Sepp’ put down his crossbow, pulled out an empty cigarette carton and began scribbling on it.
“Young man,” he said to Hans, “You go back to Jochen Peiper. Give him these instructions. He will know what to do.”
Hans took the carton and pocketed it. Flaming stones were raining down all around the trench, causing tremors all over the earth and hurling dirt and snow atop all their heads.
“We’re outnumbered here!” Sepp shouted with sudden urgency. “Bring the Leibstandarte, it’s our only hope,” he yelled to Hans.
“Yes, sir! What of the three with me?”
Master Sepp looked up, his face now caked with dust. “Werner and Siptrott stay! Take the American with you, you’ll never make it back on your own. Axthrowers everywhere. Follow me!”
Sepp lead Hans and Wheelis down a path and pulled up the wolf they had found on their expedition.
“Rokura!”
“Yes, Master Sepp!”
“These two Kamerads! To the relic!”
“You mean Petch-Key’s relic?”
“That’s the one! Go!”
Rokura pulled Hans and Tex to the far end of a trench and toward a thicket behind the line. The three of them doubled over and darted from tree to tree.
“I don’t think the Greenskins got to it yet. No! They didn’t. There it is, the Petch-Key relic!”